Under A New Moon
by Danko Kaji
Summary: Suffering from another sleepless night in Bevelle, Yuna wanders the temple alone, harboring the inconsolable pieces of her broken heart. In the library, she finds solace in the last person she ever wanted to reach out to her. Post-FFX-2, follows the events of FFX -Will- / Smut fic. Written for YuukoAzmasaki.
1. Chapter 1

_**(A/N):** Prompt request written for YuukoAzmasaki. I apologize for the long, long wait. Enjoy! :D_

 _Also inspired by song of the same title_ ― "Under A New Moon" _by Fatty Acid and sephfire._

 _Cross-posted on A03._

* * *

 **Under A New Moon**

* * *

Yuna enters the grand library, seeking a quiet, empty place for her thoughts. Sleep has always tended to elude her, which tonight proves as no exception, yet being here certainly does not help. After months of neglected correspondence, she decided to leave home in answer to Chancellor Baralai's summons, hoping to combat the beckoning problem while standing as a pillar of support for Spira. Yet why does she feel like she only managed to accomplish one thing? Pushing all of her loved ones away, even Tidus whose fragile existence she wanted to protect more than anything ― _'What am I doing?'_

She had to break his heart to keep him from learning the truth, but now she wonders if she made the right choice.

Tired of grappling with doubt and regret in the blankets of her new reality, she exited the temple compound and found herself the only one awake at this hour, even for those most unsettled by Sin's resurrection. If she must suffer and lose sleep, she might as well gain something out of it. The distant glow of a single lamplight draws her in like a moth to a flame, and she follows it to a back table, noticing broad texts and stacked papers piled all over it. Yuna halts, hearing movement, before spotting the tall silhouette of a man lost in thought, a book propped open on his hand.

Stepping forward into the light, he picks up a pen on the desk and makes a quick note of something on his notepad. Sensing her presence, he looks up and pauses. "Lady Yuna. Good evening." Baralai straightens his posture, his smile a little wan as he places the book and pen aside to face her. "Or has it become morning already?"

"Why are you not asleep? It's already late. No one else is here."

"I can say the same for you, milady. Can't sleep?"

"Yes, I… Too much on my mind…" She murmurs, uncomfortable. Who can sleep with Sin running rampant? Rounding the table, she stops at the corner and gazes upon the towering bookcases, wondering what kind of secrets hid within their depths. "I was hoping I could read up on the Beckoning, perhaps understand it more, instead of, you know… being tossed around by the whims of fate." She sighs, the joke so humorless she could die of thirst.

"You mean the Council?" Baralai grins in good nature, surprising her with his quip. "I admit, New Yevon had that effect on me, too, for awhile, but with the Spiran Council… well, I am in a better position now where I've been entrusted with the highest authority, so thankfully it's not as frustrating. I do understand where you're coming from, though."

Yuna sighs again, this time sensing the tiniest tickle of a smile on her lips. In their lapse of conversation, she wrings her hands in front of her, ducking her head with downcast eyes. She dares to take a step forward, dragging herself to reach his side. Pausing to lean back against the table, she clasps her hands in front of her, forming the shape of a sphere ― reminding Yuna of her false strength. "…Why are you so kind to me?"

He looks confused by her question. "What do you mean?"

"We haven't spoken in one year. The last time we saw each other… it was too awkward, with what everything that happened between us. We never had the chance to really sit down and talk about things. And that letter you sent me… I won't deny that I received it, but by the time I read it, I couldn't…" Yuna falters, winded by events that never happened, of feelings never spoken and a friendship never considered. Frustrated at herself and all the months she let slip past her, never giving a second thought to those outside of her daily life, she stammers in her belated apology. "I-I'm sorry. Too many things happened at once, and I didn't know what to do. I still don't. I feel very… lost, like I'm drifting and I don't know where I'm going. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about anything. I don't know what I'm supposed to live for. I don't know… who I am anymore. Nothing… feels right…"

Ghosts haunt her more than the living while the living do not understand her pain and turmoil. She had the privilege to write her story twice while there have been others who each met their own untimely end; so many who have fought to live, fought for truth, fought to win by their own strength, only to fail in death. She only lived to learn how to die, giving every piece of herself to a glorious lie. So why does she deserve to live over others who fought so hard to survive?

 _'Why couldn't it have been me?'_

"Yuna."

The call of her name jolts her into clarity, and she gasps, startled by the hot tears trailing down her cheeks. She looks up, surprised to see him standing so close, and flinches at the hand that reaches out to her, misplacing his kindness for a madman blindsided by hatred and love. Even though Baralai had been the one possessed, Tidus suffers from Shuyin's existence the most, unaware of the shade that hangs over him, lingering in every look and every touch, plus every moment of brief anger. She would see him for a split second, before willing the sinister image at bay with her feelings of love. Although she had hoped this dreadful comparison would fade away with time, a part of her deep down knew it wouldn't. How could it, when her experience with Shuyin forever tainted every moment she shared with Tidus? Maybe for that reason, Baralai's touch felt a lot less violated by his influence, because at the very least they look and sound nothing alike. Only their touch felt the same, but that made sense; Shuyin had touched her and embraced her using Baralai's body, after all.

In spite of that simple fact, Yuna averts her eyes and shuts them tight, growing tense at the feel of his hand resting over her cheek. This does not deter him, even as more tears threaten to spill, replacing the remnants of those he managed to dry; she senses Baralai move to stand in front of her, taking her face in his hands while resisting her feeble attempts to push him away. He rubs his thumbs alongside the corners of her eyes to catch the tears as they fall, and her hands fist into his tunic, unsure of what to do. Accept his sympathy or reject it?

He makes the decision for her. Pulling her into his arms, he cradles her head on his shoulder. "What are you so afraid of? What heaviness are you carrying?"

His empathic words pierce through the walls of her defenses, triggering the end to her stubborn, half-hearted resistance. She hiccups, uncurling her fists, drowning in the solace of his body heat. Her hands drop to clutch his sides, squeezing him tight, seeking validation. "I'm so… weak… Why is happiness… so hard…?"

"I cannot pretend to understand what you're going through." Baralai begins with the truth, pulling her long, sticky locks of hair away from her face to tuck them behind her ear. "But I can promise you one thing. I will always be here for you. Whenever you find yourself in need of a friend, never hesitate to rely on me. Allow me to be your strength, just like how you've always been mine."

His earnest words strike the fragile, frayed cords of her heart, causing her breath to shudder, and she clings to him, willing his warmth to eliminate her sorrow. Yuna sniffles, daring herself to imagine where her life would be if Tidus never came back. If she had been strong enough to accept his sacrifice and move on. She could pick up a new calling, fall in love again, build a family ― but can she honestly put her old dream to rest and pursue a new one? Even if that meant sharing it with someone else?

She tires of the past, hating the ghosts that haunt her. She fears for the future, losing the hope that used to guide her. But most of all, she yearns to live in the present, yet spends every waking moment running away from it. Like now, and Yuna takes a step back, moving out of his embrace. She wants to run away, but curiosity and hope anchors her feet, proving stronger than her impulse to flee. His hands come down to clasp her hands, wanting to convey comfort, and she gulps down the want and trepidation, knowing that if she looks up, she will be caught in his warm gaze. "W-What were you reading up on?"

"Oh. Right." Baralai lets go of her hands, turning around to fetch his open folder of documents, skimming through the pages of his most recent findings. "In preparation of my meeting with Tromell Guado tomorrow, I was reading up on various mythos and documentation of the Farplane. I wanted to discuss the exact nature and cause of its destabilization, as well as its link to the Beckoning epidemic. This is what I gathered from what you told me the other day. That is, if you would like to hear it."

"Mm, that depends. Is it safe to assume I will be forced to attend this meeting?"

"You are strongly suggested to." He corrects her with a hint of wry humor and sighs. "But yes."

"Okay, then. Well…" She twines her hands at her back and hums in thought. "I'd really like to hear your thoughts on the matter, because honestly, you're the only reason why I bother to participate in those meetings in the first place. Apart from obligation, of course. I don't really know anyone else in the major seats of the Council besides you, and… you're the only one that I trust there. Otherwise, I don't think I would be able to do it. I'm just so tired of feeling… _used_."

"I understand." He gives her a sympathetic smile. "And also, I apologize if I ever made you feel that way."

"I'm not worried about you." Yuna smiles, sobered by his thoughtfulness. Recalling the reason why she places so much faith in him, she lets her arms fall back to her sides. "At least, not anymore. I've seen you at your worst, and I know for a fact you're not evil. You seek justice in everything you do, no matter if you find yourself lost or full of hate. I really admire that about you, that you're so goal-driven and, um, passionate…" Embarrassed by her string of rambling compliments, she blushes, desperate to move on from this conversation. "Right. So, you were telling me? About your thoughts?" When Baralai smiles at her like that, it unsettles the butterflies in her stomach, and she gulps, overcome with a sense of remorseful desire.

After a moment, he decides to set the folder aside, clasping his wrist in front of him. "…on second thought, I think it's best if we stop here and retire. Like you said earlier, it's late, and there will be plenty of time to discuss this in the morning. If not then, we can definitely talk during the trip there."

"That sounds like a good idea." Yuna acquiesces without complaint, her eyes sore from scarce sleep.

His affectionate gaze locks her in place, allowing him the time to saunter over and stand in front of her. Detaching his hand to reach for her, he hesitates at the phlegmatic expression on her face, oblivious to her panic and torn anticipation, and loses the nerve, retracting his hand. "I'm sorry, I… I don't know what came over me. Must be tired… At any rate!" He clears his throat, composing himself. "I'm going to return these books before I leave. Wouldn't want to anger the librarian again."

"Wait, I…" Yuna falters, flustered by her involuntary step forward, and lowers her eyes, frustrated at herself. "I-I'm no good at this… flirting…" Pausing to take a breath, she brushes a strand of hair out of her face, self-conscious. "…and, um… liking someone… Is it okay for me to like you? You're so nice, I…" She fidgets, anxious. "I-I don't know what to do."

Baralai turns back around to face her, tilting his head with a soft smile. "What do you want, Lady Yuna?"

"I-I don't know... Someone to hold, or... someone to hold _me_." Overcome by the depth of her sorrow, she gulps, struggling to regain her bearings, but not before forcing the smile on her face ― a smile twisted by the sad truth. "I used to care about who I wanted that to be, but now... It can be anyone. But at the same time, I don't want it to be just _anyone_. Does that... make any sense...?"

"Sure it does," he says, consoling her insecurity. Baralai moves to lean back on the desk beside her, hands clasped on his lap. "You want change, but you're afraid of it, too. Familiarity is comfort, because it feels safe; it's what we've known our whole lives. Change is frightening, because we experience change everyday. Change abandons the familiar, only to become the new familiar. It's like a spiral that never ends, much like Spira. The only comfort we have in that thought is the act of moving forward. So, it makes you wonder..." He pauses, winded by the scope of his own words. "Where one derives their strength from, constantly moving forward with no intention of stopping. And the only way to truly stop is to die. So, why stop when you're still alive?" Baralai pauses, breaking away from that line of thought to look at her. "You know, I've come to learn that to live means to be selfish, and Lady Yuna, it's okay to be selfish."

Yuna blushes, riveted by his kind smile. "No, I... I-I can't. It's not that easy, you know? It's just... I just can't."

"Of course you can. You've more than earned the right. What is stopping you?"

"Myself."

"Why?"

"Because..."

"Of?"

"I don't know. Moving forward?" She exhales an exasperated sigh, staring at the ground; before long, she brings her hands up on her lap, fiddling with the hem of her blouse. "I just don't know. I guess... I'm tired of feeling alone and I'm tired of pushing people away. I'm tired of being afraid. Moving forward, away from all that... it's so hard to do... I don't know where to start..."

"Then, allow me to be the one to take that first step for you." Before she can react, Baralai moves to stand in front of her, hoisting her up by the waist to seat her on the edge of the table, placing her far enough from the fruits and labors of his research. He delights in the pretty, red flare coloring her cheeks and leans forward to feel the heat radiating from her face, balancing himself on his hands. "If you would have me, I want to be the one who unburdens your heart."

She gazes up into his eyes, seeing lights and shadows dance across his pupils, illuminating the depth of his emotion. Reaching out to him, she falters, uncertain, and he clasps her hand before it can fall back down, lifting it up for a kiss. She watches, weary, as he plants his lips on her open palm, suffusing her skin with amorous warmth. Baralai looks so beautiful in the dark, his eyelashes catching the light from the electric lamp every time they flutter, and she swallows. She wants to touch him, feel him, pull him closer ― and he mirrors her want, moving in to claim her lips. Something within her cracks, echoing the beginnings of another heartbreak, and she crumbles, grasping onto the tassels of his tunic with fear and desperation.

His lips are soft and smooth against her own, unlike those that suffered too much exposure from the sun. His hands cradle her neck, caressing her cheeks beneath the gentle sweep of his thumbs; his touch less calloused than those of an athlete. His scent permeates the air surrounding her, an underwhelming blend of sweet spice and dust that draws her away from the strong memory of cool sea salt. Even his kiss seeks to defy everything she thought she knew about affection, tempting her to cast aside guilt and uncertainty in the wake of past experience.

Everything about him ― from his breathing to his movements ― feels different, almost like a betrayal that stabs at her heart for every moment she allows Baralai to be close. She hates how she shivers beneath his roaming hand, which eventually settles around the small of her back, stroking the base of her spine and provoking her to arch into him, because she cannot deny how much she enjoys it. As their kiss begins to deepen, Yuna learns to breathe with him, twisting her tongue together with his in a slow and intimate dance that can only grow bolder with each passing second. Her meek noises of pleasure echo in the dead quiet, incriminating her lust.

Yuna parts for air, overwhelmed by their mutual ardor, and sighs in bliss when she feels his mouth move to her neck, leaving behind a trail of lingering, soft kisses. Feeling his hand run through her hair, she wonders ― does he feel Lenne in the long, draping locks that cascade her back, waiting for the sound beaded braids often make when they click together? This passion he feels, does it belong to Shuyin?

His whisper finally dispels her doubt. "I missed you..."

"...Why do you say that? We haven't..." Yuna hesitates at the memory of their embrace in the Farplane Glen, at the dreams that have haunted her since then, born from the curiosity and longing only vicarious intimacy can invoke. Sensing her lips quiver, she gulps. "That wasn't us. That was..."

"I know, but I can't stop thinking about you. I think about you every day, and thinking about you in the arms of another... it drove me to sleepless nights, almost to the point of insanity. I was afraid I was becoming just like Shuyin. Lately, though... I've come to realize something." He pauses to cup her face, gazing into her eyes. "I don't believe my feelings for you were born from Shuyin's love for Lenne. I believe his love only brought mine to the surface. I have always admired you, Lady Yuna, long before Shuyin's influence."

"...but why?"

"You know why, Lady Yuna."

"What? But, I've always been just me..."

Baralai taps her forehead with his and smiles. "And that is why you are so wonderful."

Her heart skips a beat, followed by a tiny burst of joy that resonates in her breast. Afraid of losing this rare and precious feeling, she cradles his face and pulls him in for a kiss. For a moment, she allows herself to forget. She forgets that she once belonged to another, clinging to her love for a dream that became a fleeting memory. She forgets that she once swore to wait forever and love him forever, even after old age. She forgets how painful it felt to hold him close, by body, if not by heart, only to push him away. She allows herself to forget, so she can bask in this moment without the thought of him giving her guilt. Because how could she ever deserve to be happy without him? She banishes the thought, squeezing Baralai tight.

He responds to her with equal force, pressing firm kisses and firm hands all over her body, distracting her from such morbid musings, and she shivers at the touch of his warm lips on her neck again, flushing even more to the presence of his hot breath breezing her ear. She gropes him in her blind frenzy for relief, wanting to foster affection for him in the meeting of their skin, yet the coarse texture of his high collar against her hand disrupts her focus. Running her hand over his coat, Yuna frowns, frustrated by the stubborn knots that keep his vestment together. "You always wear too many clothes..."

"And you always wear too little. Why do you torture me so?" He hitches her skirt up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and pulls her down beneath him, pressing against the warm, damp area of her arousal with his bulging crotch. Her gasp spurs him on, motivating him to clutch her close. His hand slips into the slit of her long, violet skirt, gripping the underside of her thigh as the other fists into her hair, trapping her in a deep kiss.

Yuna moans, wriggling with ill-suppressed pleasure, and tugs at his collar, ripping the knots loose one by one until she can finally reach inside and feel his collarbone, rubbing along the bare length of his skin. Her hands move in tempo to his thrusts, stroking his neck with the firm press of her fingers, teasing his nape with the light scrape of her nails, motivating him to grind harder. Only eager consummation awaits them now, and she doesn't know how much longer can she wait before she finally snaps.

Her hand gropes for his belt, tugging it loose from its double-wrapped knot, before reaching in to clasp him beneath the open ends of his coat, fondling his erection. She feels him respond at once, breaking away from the kiss to moan in her ear, and she sighs, shivering at the sound of his vulnerable voice.

"Please come to bed with me tonight. I need― I want to feel you more."

A frightening thought sneaks into her mind unbidden. "...but what does that mean for the both of us? When we wake up tomorrow, are we going to pretend we never...?" Yuna gulps, surprised to discover a thick lump in her throat. Has she grown attached to the idea already, giving herself to someone else, wanting to claim Baralai as her own? How can she be so eager to move on when that would mean the end of Tidus's existence? Tears brim in her eyes, blurring the expression on his face as she attempts to push him off. "What am I doing? I feel so insensitive and... _heartless_..." Yuna sniffles, clutching onto his shirt, torn between pushing him away and clutching him close. "...selfish... I'm so... selfish..."

"You deserve to be selfish more than anyone. You're only stopping yourself."

Yuna sniffles, tilting her face towards his warm, gentle hand, which wipes her tears dry, and then she feels him run his hands down the smooth length of her thighs, massaging them nice and firm. Baralai's eyes are dark and hooded, drinking in the full sight of her body spread out before him, and she blushes, nervous. Her face must look all awkward and ruddy from her crying, and she frowns, resisting the gross urge to sniff out loud. Feeling him reach up to part the wrapped ends of her white blouse, she squirms, forgetting all about her embarrassment as she feels him caress her neck, her collarbone, even her cleavage, before his hand slips beneath the tight fabric of her bra, cupping her breast. A moan escapes from her throat and she panics, covering her mouth, becoming more self-conscious when he pulls her hand away.

"No. Don't hide. I want to hear how I make you feel." Baralai pins her hand by her head, leaning down to kiss her and tangling her eager tongue in his, delighting in her muffled moans. Once her hips rise to wound her legs around his waist, he begins to rock against her, trembling with need, thrusting harder, until he eventually breaks away to latch onto the straps of her panties.

Yuna helps him remove it by maneuvering her legs, feeling him step back as he pulls her underwear down her ankles, and shivers in the chilly air that creeps back into the spaces Baralai once filled. It hits her where she feels most warm, worsening her impatience and discomfort. Bevelle has always been cold and unfeeling, because of the heartless men who used to rule it, but not this man. Not this sweet and gentle man who asks permission in the meeting of their eyes, waiting for her spoken consent.

"You don't have to be gentle."

"But I want to." He slips his hand in between her thighs, brushing her wet, sticky lips with the tips of his fingers, relishing her hot, slick arousal and the noises of her ill-suppressed pleasure.

Feeling him slide inside, she arches into his hand with a sharp gasp, losing herself in the slow and curious twists of his finger. She writhes, moaning as he digs deeper, and purses her lips, biting back her moan. After Baralai pulls out, she catches her breath and watches him tug down his waistband, closing her eyes before she can see him unveiled, wracked with anxiety and anticipation. Yuna feels him raise her skirt up again, this time wrapping it around her waist, and jumps at the touch of his other hand on her face.

"Don't turn your face away. Look at me. I want to see your face as I take you."

She dares to open her eyes, growing hot beneath his amorous gaze. The moment he touches her entrance with the tip of his penis, rubbing his smooth head alongside her moist lips, she relaxes against the table, crooning in bliss. He feels so good, she wants him _now_ , and she writhes to showcase her restlessness; soon enough she feels him enter, pushing inside her tight walls inch by inch until he fills her whole. His thrusts are slow at first, as if wanting to savor her, and she moans, mirroring his quiet echoes of ecstasy. Once Baralai begins to move faster, no longer able to contain himself, she loses herself in his long, deep strokes, rocking her hips in tandem with his.

This unbearable ache he soothes feels as profound as the emptiness in her heart, which festered in the past year like a sickness of the soul until Yuna came to realize a startling truth: She will never be able to live in this world without another to serve as her source of strength. She needs someone to share this life with, someone who can renew her faith in happiness and love. She needs someone to feel alive, and it can't be Tidus who acts more dead than an Unsent. But it's not his fault that she feels this way, it's not his fault, it's never his fault―

Her hand finds the hem of his shirt and _pulls_ , using him as her anchor to push herself up, clutching him so tight, she starts to move against him in mindless passion, wanting release from this bitter, sad reality. She feels his strong hands grip her fierce, possessing her to kiss him, to forget about everything else and drown in the heat of his breaths, the vibrations of his voice.

"Yuna. _Yuna_. I'm going to come. Tell me where I can―." He jerks away before he can complete that sentence, pulling himself out so he can stroke himself to spill all over her, staining the inside of her skirt.

Yuna basks in the noises of his climax, his heavy breathing and guttural groan, struggling to calm her racing heart. In spite of their messy finish, she snuggles to him, craving his warmth in the presence of her afterglow. She feels him reciprocate her timid embrace with tender affection, burrowing his face in her hair to regain his breath. "Take me―." Her tongue hangs on a most desperate sentiment, and she gulps. "Take me back with you, to your place where you sleep. I want to wake up next to you. I don't want to wake up alone." After a moment, she wavers. "I must sound silly―."

"No, you don't." Baralai pulls back to stroke her cheek, becoming silent for a long moment. Brushing her sweat-matted bangs out of her eyes, he takes in her full features, smiling. "If I wake up to see you lying next to me, that's how I will know tonight was not a dream. I don't want this to be a dream. Do you?"

His words open the floodgates to her heart and she ducks her head, pinching her face in an expression of absolute grief. She shakes her head and sucks in breath, suppressing her sob in vain, and proceeds to lean her forehead against his chest, releasing all the bitter, hot tears she bottled up inside. "Please, stay. I can't... do this alone..."

"You have always had me, my lady." He grasps her chin between his fingers, tilting her face up to capture her lips in a loving kiss. "And you will always have me, because I belong here with you."

Gripping him so hard, she wills his words to be true.


	2. Chapter 2

(A/N): Aaah, I meant for this to be longer, and included as a lead-in to the "morning after," but I decided to publish this as thus. If anything, it could have worked better as the end of the first part, but I didn't have it written at the time, so... Enjoy!

Think of this story as like a series of behind-the-scenes smut, in which Yuna and Baralai privately indulge each other. Expect angst, expect conflicting interests, and sprinkled politics. XD

* * *

 **The Second Time**

* * *

They return to his bed chambers soon after their sexual encounter, wanting to retire in true privacy. As Yuna sits in his bath, scrubbing herself of his touch, she sighs, staring off into space, lost in rumination. ' _I just slept with the chancellor of the Spiran Council. What am I doing? I'm still mourning over_ him… _How could I be so...'_

She huffs in frustration, unplugging the drain to start rinsing herself.

She doesn't want to think of them like that. A politician, a dead man walking. Not when she sought out a shoulder to cry on and turned to Baralai as a friend who would listen to her even though he couldn't understand. Tidus didn't understand, either, but sometimes he tried so hard to, she really wished he would stop and accept the fact he can't bridge the difference. They are different, they will always be different, so why can't they be at harmony with that fact? At least with Baralai, he didn't try to, and he accepted her feelings without complaint or criticism. She knows that he loves her, and he knows that she loves someone else, but…

' _He's still so kind… How did I put myself in this situation?'_

Donning the satin bathrobe Baralai had provided for her, she stands in the dim light now, facing the end of the hallway in deliberation. She fiddles with the over-encompassing, wide sleeves, how they seem to swallow her small hands, and in an attempt to shield herself from the stark cold, wraps the large, draping hems of his bathrobe tighter around herself, before stepping forward, dowsing the candle light as she passed it. She doesn't have to worry about walking in the dark, because Baralai had lit up the lamp on his bedside table to guide her. He sits against the headboard rifling through some papers in a familiar manila folder (probably trying to sneak in some last minute review for tomorrow), and sets it aside on his nightstand once he notices her approach.

"Ready?" He smiles at her, which quells some of her unease.

"Y-Yes… um, sorry for making you wait…" Yuna climbs into bed next to him, fighting back the butterflies in her stomach.

She sinks into the soft, plush mattress, looking down to where her hands rest on the embroidered fabric of his thick blanket. In the singular, bright glow of his bedside lamp, she can trace the patterns of navy blue and white triangles of flowery stars; his style of bedding almost reminiscent of his trademark blue headband and white hair. She smiles a little, amused by the connection. And then he dowses the light, leaving her to crawl underneath the covers.

Settling into place beside him, she clutches the pillow closer to her, nervous. She can feel his body heat, her knees almost brushing his leg, and wonders if he lies naked in comfort beneath the blanket or if he changed into a pair of pajama pants? The curiosity and nervousness kills her, and she exhales, a little shaken by the motion when she realizes she had been holding her breath the entire time. Frustrated at herself, she purses her lips and sits up, trapped in this maddening restlessness.

"...what's wrong?"

His voice echoes in the quiet, sleepy, but alert, attentive and concerned, acting as the balm that soothes her nerves.

His presence, his tentative touch, teases at her reservations, and Yuna descends to splay herself across his body, searching for him in the dark.

Touching her open palm to his, she laces their fingers together, pouring warmth into the gaps of their cold hands. Baralai does not mind, even though he must be tired, and so she sits up to straddle him, daring to rock against him and growing wet from the slow friction. She hears him sigh into the air, enjoying the feel of her, and she unwraps their fingers to tug his hand down over her thigh. His other hand soon follows, cradling her hip in possessive want, guiding her beneath the subtlest push of his fingertips.

Even during submission, Baralai likes to lead, and she has to hold him down to dissuade his movements. Leaning forward to prop herself on her elbows, she cradles his head in the cage of her arms, coming in for a slow kiss. He groans, feeling restless, and she smiles.

"Relax. Just take it."

"My Lady…"

She lifts herself up a bit, reaching down to hold him up by his length, before sinking down. Yuna sighs in bliss, taking him all in until they fill each other whole. His quiet moan empowers her to keep this pace, holding him in thrall like how he holds the world in the palm of his hand. She could ask him for anything, and he would give it to her. He loves her, he worships her, he makes her feel like a part of Spira again, and for once, she doesn't feel so powerless or alone. As of this moment, she does not belong to a temple of empty prayers or the will of false, dead gods; only him, and his promises for change. She wants to believe in his words and his actions with all her might, and so she prays.


End file.
